A Gift of Sight
by Celtic Bard
Summary: Elrohir is beset by strange occurances, and quickly finds his life in turmoil as a result. What impact could this have on his future?
1. Chapter 1

**Legal Disclaimer: Tolkien is dead. Therefore, I am not he. Since I am not Tolkien (nor the Saul Zaentz company, which I believe holds rights to his works) these characters and this world are not mine and I am making no money off of this endeavor.**

**Canon-related disclaimer: Obviously, this is AU.**

**Age-related disclaimer: I'm reasonably sure that I've made a total mess of the age difference between the twins and Arwen. AU.**

**Author's note: I originally posted this in 2003. In May of 2006, after careful consideration, I removed it from fanfiction dot net because the writing was no longer up to my quality standards. In January of 2007 I began to do a rewrite, the first part of which you now see here.**

* * *

_Lost in the dream world, Elrohir was flying. Waves – billowy, ever-changing waves of a substance like to starstuff, or perhaps moonbeams – tossed him, gently, as he floated in the great Void surrounding the world. _

_Void, Elrohir decided, was an apt name for it. As he ghosted, nearly weightless, past the moon and the sun and the brightly twinkling stars, he felt nearly nothing. Neither joy nor hope nor sorrow nor pain nor fear... nothing, save for one urgent question filling his mind._

_Why?_

_Some impending sense of purpose tugged at him, as it always did, here in this place – he knew there had to be a reason for this, a reason for him being here, a reason for everything, as it were, but he could never figure out the answer. He never could figure it out, yet just as always, he got the feeling that it was close, very close, and that someday soon he would find it._

_And then – there – he could feel it, could feel the answer to this question, the meaning to this endless dream rising somewhere in his mind, just barely out of the grasp of his consciousness. It was almost there, it was__ when -_

The younger of the twin sons of Elrond awoke, turning onto his back as he blinked to clear his vision. Elladan always slept with his eyes open, but, though Elrohir also had that skill, he found it much more comfortable to sleep with them closed.

He sighed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying as he always did after waking from the dream to place some meaning to it, some answer to the question. He had been having that dream for as long as he could remember – granted, not a terribly long time as he was not even an adult yet, just an adolescent – and for as long as he could remember he had never been able to figure out the answer to the question. _Why?_ The answer, was there, he _knew_ it was there, but it still lingered as it always had, just out of his grasp.

He turned, facing the other side of the room where Elladan lay, eyes open and hands neatly folded. The twins had always shared a room, at first because it had been easier to keep an eye on them that way and then because no one could think of a good reason to separate the two of them and they seemed perfectly content with the arrangements.

As he lay in silence listening to the quiet, even breathing of his brother, Elrohir's mind continued to be plagued with the question and nonexistent answer. His thoughts circled round inside his head, their efforts fruitless. Finally, as he had done on other nights when he had also been hounded by the impossible question and unable to sleep, he decided to consult his twin. "Elladan!"

Propping himself up on an elbow, the elder of the two twins mumbled a bleary, "What?" in response as he shook his head to clear the sleepiness away.

"It happened again."

"What?" Elladan blinked at him, groggy.

"The dream. It happened again."

Elladan sighed, and barely managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he laid back down. "We went over this _last_ time, Elrohir. I already told you that I do not know what it means. Go back to sleep."

"But, Elladan, it-"

Elladan pulled a pillow over his head, effectively muting out the rest of his brother's sentence. Once he had determined that enough time had probably passed for Elrohir to have finished talking, he lifted the pillow slightly off his face to answer. "Go and talk to Ada, if it bothers you that much."

"But I cannot!"

Elladan's brow furrowed slightly in annoyance. "Why?"

"Because I have asked him before, and he does not know. And I do not want to wake him in the middle of the night!"

Elladan, sleep-deprived and now thoroughly annoyed, sat up and gave his twin as much of a glare as he could muster, under the circumstances. "Then why did you wake _me?_"

"I did not think _you_ would mind..."

Mumbling darkly but inaudibly at this, Elladan reached to grab his pillow and throw it at his brother – and then stopped short, remembering that it was rather a nice pillow and that he would like to resume sleeping on it, preferably sometime _soon. _"Elrohir, _go back to sleep!_ Why are you getting so worked up over this, anyways? Stars are not dangerous and dreams are always strange."

"It is not the _stars_ that are important, brother! It _has_ to have a deeper meaning, I know it does!"

"Good. _You_ can think that over while I go back to sleep." Elladan laid down again and allowed the dream-state to take him.

Grumbling about the uselessness of his twin, Elrohir resumed staring at the ceiling, pondering.

* * *

Six sleepless hours later, he rose. After giving the smallest of glances to his softly-snoring brother – and deciding that waking him again would probably be a bit much – he got dressed and went to go eat breakfast, the matter of 'why?' still bothering him. 

The great hall where people commonly took their meals was nearly deserted at so early an hour, but Elrohir was unbothered by it. The quiet and the solitude allowed him to think with greater ease – if only his thoughts could inf him the answer.

He had just finished his breakfast and was beginning to contemplate where to go next when -

_Dread._

It was a fantastically horrible feeling that swept through him, an oily almost-queasiness that he might have mistaken for nausea were it not accompanied by a deep sense of foreboding – something bad was about to happen, something very bad.

He looked about, trying to determine what had caused such a feeling, and when the room appeared as innocuous as always, he tried to shake it off, to no avail. Every bit of his mind told him that _something _was wrong here but he knew that nothing was.

Deeply unnerved, he rose to leave in the hopes that a change of scenery might help, and upon turning around found himself face-to-face with his twin.

"Good morning," Elladan began cheerfully, stopping short when he saw the expression on his brother's face. "Is everything all right? What happened?"

Elrohir shook his head. "Nothing happened, Elladan. Everything is fine."

"If everything is fine, how come you look absolutely miserable?"

Not wishing to be an alarmist – he knew he had already bothered his brother enough for one day, what with waking him in the middle of the night and all - Elrohir forced a smile. "Everything is fine." _Everything that I know of, anyway._

He began heading toward the door, before his brother could say anything further. "You worry too much, Elladan."

* * *

Indeed, nothing was wrong in the Last Homely House at Imladris. Elrohir checked. 

Yet, as the day wore on, the feeling of unease surrounding Elrohir grew progressively worse, despite his attempts at ignoring it. The only thing that seemed to do any good was concentrating wholeheartedly on whatever task was at hand, and thus it was that that afternoon found him and Arwen out on one of the archery fields.

Younger than her brothers, the child Arwen had been dying to learn the use of a bow, but it was currently the rainy season and, being as extreme thunderstorms were generally not considered proper weather for introducing people to archery, she had been unable to begin until today. Yesterday's weather _had_ been mostly clear, but the storms had damaged a fair number of trees and many people in the household had been busy tending to the aftermath and were thus unable to direct their attention to teaching Arwen.

Elrohir, trying mightily to disregard the profound sense of anxiety that had been with him since breakfast, turned to face his sister. He held the weapon, the same one that he had used as a child, out to her, and explained, "This is a bow."

Arwen rolled her eyes. "I know _that_, brother." Elrohir gave her his best 'annoyed' look while Elladan snickered at them from where he was watching, underneath a nearby tree. There should have been a weaponsmaster teaching Arwen – she would not have been ruse with anyone other than her brothers – but a falling tree limb had damaged one of the guardhouses yesterday and the guards were all busy.

With a sigh – he did not need attitude from her, especially not with his day going like it had – Elrohir placed the bow in her hand, and positioned her fingers properly. "You hold it like this."

Elladan watched in amusement as Elrohir then held out an arrow, and proceeded to explain, "This is an-"

Arwen cut him off, rolling her eyes again. "An arrow, brother, I _know!_"

Elrohir barely even heard that last statement - the feeling of dread had suddenly grown, tightening its grip on him. He felt his skin crawl and his stomach churn, and immediately tried to focus more on what he was doing, to make the feeling go away. "Place the notched end of the arrow on the string. The bowstring faces-"

"_I already know that!"_

"If you do not like my teaching then you can wait until someone else has the time to teach you!"

That quieted her down. "Now, put the arrow to the string."

She did so. Elrohir corrected her. "You are holding it too high and your fingers should be like this."

She fixed her grip, concentrating fiercely and tongue protruding slightly from one corner of her mouth. "Good," Elrohir said. "Now, pull your arm back. No, farther than that. Farther than _that_, Arwen, the arrow will never reach the target that way-"

"I cannot pull it any farther _back_, brother!" she told him in exasperation, and Elrohir remembered how it had been when he had first learned to use a bow – difficult, on arm muscles that were unused to such things.

"Yes you can. It will make you stronger. Just a little farther. Good. Now, aim it as best you can at the center of the target and -"

_Crack!_

A loud noise snapped from behind them, and Elrohir whirled around to see that a limb had fallen from the tree that Elladan had been standing under, and for a moment he feared for his twin but then he saw that Elladan was all right and -

-he had forgotten that Arwen was with him, and what they were doing -

-and the next thing he saw was an arrow, protruding from Elladan's right shoulder. _Oh no!_

Elrohir ran to him, a sick feeling twisting his stomach, with Arwen trailing close behind. He stopped, at Elladan's side – Elladan was kneeling now, hand wrapped tightly around the arrow-shaft – and Arwen nearly crashed into him, panicky tears blinding her eyes. "Ai!" Elrohir exclaimed, "Go and get Ada!"

She did not follow his directions but rather stood there, frozen still and sniffling.

He gave her a shove in the general direction of the house. "Go and get Ada!"

After a moment she ran – still crying – to do as he instructed, and Elrohir knelt down next to his twin. He put a hand to the injured shoulder, trying to move Elladan so he could get a better look, and Elladan let out a small moan. " 'S going to be good at this someday," he said through tightly clenched teeth. "Killer shot, she has..."

Elrohir had no idea what to say to that, and turned anxiously towards the house, wondering how much longer it would take his father to get to them. After a minute he saw Elrond come hurrying towards them. Arwen was right behind him, lugging a satchel of medical supplies.

The Elf-lord knelt down next to his sons. "What happened?" he asked, face grave. Arwen had been less than coherent; all he had caught were the words "tree," "Elladan," and "shot."

"Arwen shot him."

"I did not mean to!" She turned away. "It was an _accident_!"

"Still-"

"Enough, both of you," said Elrond. When Arwen and Elrohir were both silent, he turned back to Elladan. "Elladan, move your hand away, please." He did, and once Elrond caught sight of the wound he sighed with relief. It was nowhere near as bad as he had originally feared – Arwen's bow, after all, was far from powerful, and the arrow had not hit anything important.

"This is going to be just fine," he said, cutting Elladan's tunic away from the area surrounding the wound. "But the arrow has to come out. Hold still." He gripped the shaft of the arrow and in one swift movement pulled it out. Elladan gave a brief cry – of shock as much as pain – and his father quickly bandaged his injured shoulder. It would heal in about a day.

"There. You should rest now, Elladan." Elrond helped him up, and all four of them walked back to the house.

As they headed inside, Elrohir realized something strange. The feeling of dread that had been with him all day, was gone. He was concerned over his twin, yes, but nothing on the scale of what he had felt before – none of the horrible anticipation. It was really gone, not merely suppressed like when he had been trying to push it away. _What is going on_

He pondered deeply on that, barely even noticing as Elrond led Elladan and Arwen to their rooms, with Elrohir following behind.

"Elrohir, are you listening to me?" Elrond had turned to him, somewhat annoyed.

He shook himself out of it. "Sorry, what?"

"_What happened?"_

He sighed. "I was teaching Arwen to shoot. Elladan was standing under the tree, watching, when a damaged branch broke off. We were startled and turned around, and Arwen forgot that she was holding a drawn bow. She let go and the arrow hit Elladan. It was an accident, Ada! She did not mean to-"

"I know it was an accident," Elrond said, "I highly doubt that Arwen would intentionally shoot her brother. However, _please_ remember to be careful – Arwen is not as old as you are and you cannot expect her to think as far ahead."

"Yes, Ada."

"Good." Elrond turned, then, and began walking away. Celebrían was currently staying in Lórien; he had a letter to write her.

Elrohir, meanwhile, was left alone. He thought again on what the feeling of dread could have meant, and finally decided it had just been a gut feeling. That was all. That was all for that feeling of dread, and any other subsequent gut feelings. It was not until centuries later that something more began to happen – Elrohir began to see things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Third Age, 2509:**

Elrohir laid down to sleep, wondering as he did so how much sleep he would actually be getting. Over the past millennium and a half the dream had continued to come with increasing frequency, and now it happened to him almost every night. It had grown in urgency, as well, bringing with it feelings so strong that at times he imagined they threatened to swallow his soul, but he could make nothing of them. Just as always, he had never been able to find the answer, and he had spent more sleepless nights than he could count, thinking on account of the dream.

True to prediction, as soon as he closed his eyes, Elrohir was flying.

_Once again, Elrohir found himself in the dreamworld, floating through the Void. This time, though, it was different. It was...changed; harsher, in a way, than the tranquil nothingness of the world before._

_Now the stars wheeled about him, cold and distant, icy pinpricks gleaming in the blackness. For the first time, here, Elrohir was made aware of the fury of the sun's fires, of the ever-cycling aloofness of the moon. He discovered, now, the terrible lonesomeness and isolation, out here in the Void._

_And once again the feeling of purpose came to him, but it, too, had changed. He could feel the answer__coming to him, closer than it ever had before. It engulfed him, this sensation, and it could not possibly go on much longer or he would surely burst, his existence scattering to spent eternity in the desolate cosmos._

_Suddenly it came calling him. "Elrohir!" it said. "Elrohir!"_

_The sense of purpose-to-be intensified a thousandfold, and then without even thinking – without knowing that he would – he answered it. "I know," said Elrohir, "I know_."

_And he found that he did know, that the answer was there, was just there, when -_

Elrohir woke up in a cold sweat, with Elladan standing above him.

"_Finally_," muttered Elladan. "I have been calling your name for _ages_ to try to rouse you."

Elrohir gave him a bit of a blank stare for a moment before closing his eyes with a sigh. He had almost _had_ it; he had been _so_ close. "No," he groaned. If only he had been allowed another _second!_ Why did Elladan have to wake him? "I was so _close_..."

Elladan fixed him with a curious stare. "So close to what, Elrohir? Get out of bed or I shall go hunting without you."

Reluctantly, Elrohir opened his eyes and sat up. "I almost had it figured out, Elladan! I almost knew what it meant..."

"Oh. The dream."

_What else?_ "Yes, the dream. Now will you move so that I can get up and dressed?"

* * *

The hunt that day was unsuccessful. The brothers had only been out for an hour or so when a very violent thunderstorm sprung up, thoroughly drenching them and threatening to chill, if they did not escape it soon. The pantry could wait another day to be filled – though it was running a bit low, it was not yet empty – so they headed home, soaked through to the skin.

Elrond happened to be passing by as the twins stepped in the doorway; he paused in his stride to raise an eyebrow at their sodden appearance. "It is nearly time for dinner," he told them. The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile. "You may wish to change before you flood the whole household."

Elrohir and Elladan headed upstairs to their rooms to do so, trading their rain-soaked hunting clothes for fancy formal robes. Celebrían was leaving in the morning for an extended visit to Lórien and tonight's dinner was special, in her honor; they had to look their best.

The evening went splendidly, with those gathered telling jokes and tales and singing songs long into the night. It was well after midnight when Elrohir, tired from the day's exertion and having had more than a little wine, finally rose to go to bed.

He had just turned to his mother, to wish her good night, when a chill came over him, as though there were a draft in the Hall. _How odd_. He looked about to see if anyone else had noticed it, but they appeared not to have, so he shrugged it off, saying his good-nights and heading to bed.

Elrohir slept well that night, and woke up in the morning to join the rest of the household in seeing his mother off. He still felt a bit of a chill, and pulled on a heavier robe than those normally worn at this time of year before he headed outside. Elladan gave him an odd look, but said nothing.

They headed outside, to the gates and the path where Celebrían's party stood waiting. Families embraced, murmuring goodbyes, and then the Lady Celebrían raised her hand in farewell and she and her company rode away.

Elrohir began heading in. He and Elladan would be resuming the hunt today, and before that he had arrows that needed fletching and bowstrings that needed plaiting. He had nearly reached the entryway when a sudden dizziness overtook him. He put his hand to his temple, and shook his head to try to clear it, thinking for a moment that he might retch, and then the feeling was gone as suddenly as it began.

Elladan, who had been behind him, put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head again, waved a hand. "Fine."

Elladan surveyed him with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes; I am fine." He was not sure what had just happened, but he felt well enough now. There was no need for concern, surely.

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Elrohir still felt slightly chilled, as he had upon waking, but he had no further dizzy spells. After finishing his tasks, he gathered his hunting gear and met up with Elladan in the courtyard, shortly after noon.

"Ready?" Elladan asked him, and Elrohir nodded in response, when-

_Peril._

_Naneth surrounded by orcs and all around a battle – arrows and blades and spears and hideous creatures, fel things of death! Spilt blood and broken blades and a poisoned wound - _

He gasped; all the air had left his lungs, replaced by a crushing coil of pain.

"Elrohir?" Elladan was leaning in, his hand on his brother's arm, worried, but Elrohir couldn't answer him, couldn't breathe, could barely see anything other than the horrific tableau in his mind, all grotesquely twisted faces and gore and slaughter. He fell to his knees, hands at his temples and eyes opened too wide, wishing he could make it stop, could _unsee_ -

"_Elrohir?"_ Elladan had followed him down, now kneeling beside him. "Elrohir, what is wrong?"

He shook his brother's arm, trying to get a reaction, but Elrohir could only shake his head in response, mouthing wordlessly, knowing that he should say something but lacking both the air to speak and the coherence of thought to say anything at all.

"I am going to get Ada." Elladan's voice rose higher than its normal pitch as he tried to stay calm. He didn't know _what_ was happening to his twin, but knew that it was bad.

He ran to Elrond's study, where he found his father at a desk, poring over some obscure map. The Elf-Lord looked up when his son entered, brows furrowing when he saw how flustered Elladan was. "What is it?"

"It – Ada – there is something wrong with Elrohir! He fell in the courtyard– I – you need to go to him, _now!_" He didn't know what else to say, and anxiously took one step out of the doorway, impatient to return to his brother.

Elrond had risen from his chair even before Elladan had finished speaking his first sentence, and together they ran out to the courtyard, to find the fallen twin.

Elrohir had curled up into a ball now, his forehead resting on his knees. His hands still clutched at his temples; he was rocking slightly back and forth, there on the ground.

Elrond hurried to his son. He knelt on the smooth stones beside him, putting a hand on Elrohir's shaking shoulder. "Elrohir?" he asked softly, "Elrohir, what happened?"

Elrohir gave a choked-off whimper and shook his head. The images wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop. No matter how much he tried to make them do so, they stayed there in his head, displaying themselves over and over.

He felt his father's hand rub his shoulder, gently, and then the hand moved underneath his chin, to lift his face so that he could look Elrond in the eyes. Seeing him there helped; he found that he could push the horrible pictures a little bit away, could begin edging them out of his mind.

"Elrohir, tell me what is wrong." The Elf-Lord's voice was gentle, but firm, and Elrohir found that it removed enough of the twisted sickness in his head to allow him to speak.

"A-Ada." He locked his gaze on his father's. Elrond would know what to do. He had centuries of experience healing, fixing people. He would know what this was, would surely know how to make it stop.

Elrond nodded. "Yes, Elrohir. I am here. You need to tell me what is wrong. What has happened to you?"

The younger of the twins took in a shuddery breath. " Ada, I – in my head – I -" Thinking of it made the images, the horrible ghastly scene, flare up again, and he brought his hands to his temples and dropped his gaze, closing his eyes tightly as though that would make it all go away.

"You what?" Elrond kept his voice gentle, hoping to calm Elrohir to the point where he could talk about what was happening. It worried him, as he had never seen such an affliction come upon his son before, and hoped that when Elrohir managed to tell him what was wrong he would be able to find a way to fix it.

Two thin lines of tears trailed from the corners of Elrohir's tightly closed eyes. His voice rose in a desperate cry, breath coming fast and shallow. "I am _seeing_ things!"

_Seeing things?_ That only added to his worry. People didn't generally suffer from such an ailment so suddenly, and without a direct cause – Elrohir suffered from no head injuries, had never been in a battle that might have affected his mind. This was not good. "What sort of things?"

Elrohir tried to tell him, tried to put the horrible pictures into words, but it only made them worse. Thinking on it only made them more intense, more _real._ Oh, there was no possible way they could be real; nothing could be that awful... He merely shook his head and curled up into a tighter ball.

"What sort of things, Elrohir?"

The younger of the two twins shook his head again, and Elrond decided that a change of environment might be in order. Elrohir might be more comfortable inside, might relax enough to speak. He needed to speak, to say what exactly he was seeing, or Elrond wouldn't be able to help him.

Elrond looked up at Elladan, who was standing cross-armed above them, his face the picture of anxiety. "We should get him inside. Help me, please."

To Elrohir, he murmured, "Come, Elrohir, we are going to go inside. Can you stand?"

It was a moment before Elrohir responded, and Elrond wondered if perhaps they would have to carry him inside, but then he began to uncurl himself. With the help of Elrond's hand on his arm he rose shakily to his feet, but stood falteringly, unable to move forward. Elladan put an arm round his brother's shoulders, to help steady him, and then like that they were able to walk inside.

Elrond's study was the closest non-public room. He and Elladan led Elrohir to a comfortable chair, there, and Elrohir sat down, hunching over and wrapping his arms about himself. The messy tear-tracks on his cheeks glistened, still, but the walk to the study had helped him break away from the horror in his head. When Elrond knelt next to him, he made eye contact briefly before looking away and squeezing shut his eyelids.

He put a hand on Elrohir's arm, squeezed it gently to try to keep his son focused on the outside world, and not on what was going on inside his mind. "Elrohir, I promise you I will do my best to help you but before I can _I_ _need you to tell me what you see_."

At last, a broken answer came from the younger twin's lips. "I see orcs."


End file.
